


George's Farm

by enviropony



Category: Original Work
Genre: Animals, Gen, Paranormal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 15:44:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15609612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enviropony/pseuds/enviropony
Summary: George has a farm. George has animals. Some of the animals... aren't right.





	George's Farm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MagicaDraconia16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicaDraconia16/gifts).



“That chicken isn't right,” the neighbor opines, but George just shrugs and smiles.

“It eats ticks same as the rest of them,” he says. He doesn't say that the chicken only eats ticks, grubs and insects – not grain or chicken feed. 

“You should get rid of it,” the neighbor continues. “Before it infects the rest of the flock.”

The chicken is scruffy-looking, feathers bent and broken where they aren't missing entirely, and its head is crooked at a funny angle. “I'm sure it's fine,” George says. “If you'll pardon me, I have cows that need fed.”

“Of course,” says the neighbor. “Have a good day, now.” She waves, and her pick-up rattles off down the driveway.

George goes to feed the cows, dumping bags of pellets into the troughs for them. The sickly one lets him give it a brief pat as it tries to shoulder its way to the food. 

As he does the other chores, he reflects on nosy neighbors and feed store clerks. He should never have mentioned the bird that wanders the yard day and night, bumping off of walls and trees. He thinks it must be blind, but he likes to call it the zombie chicken.

He knows he should put it down, but he can't bother, and it doesn't seem to be doing any harm. It had been on the farm when he moved in a few months ago. It's probably just old. Blind and old. The other chickens don't bother it, and it can't quite get up enough speed to bother them. 

Just a blind, old chicken that doesn't like pellets. What's the harm in that?

\- - -

The sickly cow is getting better. It was sick the first month, too, and the second, but it got better each time. The vet says it might be parasites, or a recurrent virus. Dr. Lindy advises deworming for the whole herd, and keeping the sickly cow isolated.

The cow gets so lonely without the others around, George just doesn't have the heart to keep her penned up. Anyway, the Strongid's been administered, and she's looking so much better. There doesn't seem to be much point. 

Maybe the howling is stressing her out. Whatever it is, a coyote or maybe a wolf, it comes and goes every month or so, just about the time the cow gets weaker. The two might be related. 

Of course, when the neighbor stops by again a few weeks later, the cow is ailing again.

“That cow ain't right,” she says. “Did you deworm them?”

“I did,” George says.

“Best to cull her, you don't want the rest of the herd catching whatever it is.”

“I'll see what the vet thinks,” George demurs. 

\- - -

George calls the nosy neighbor the next week to let her know, “Your goat's been in my yard this week. Can you come get it, please?”

“I don't have a goat,” the neighbor says. “I'll tell you the truth, buddy. That farm's not right.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“That farm's not right,” she says. “Never been right. Last guy called me about a goat, too. Big silver one, only showed up at night, he said. Nobody has goats around here. He had sick cows and chickens, too.”

“Maybe there's something in the soil,” George says. “But what about the goat?”

“Ghost goat,” the neighbor says, and hangs up.

George stares at the phone for a moment, baffled, before putting it back in his pocket. Ghost goat, indeed.

\- - -

Ghost goat, indeed!

George saw the goat up close last night, and he can safely say that it is, in fact, a ghost goat. He could see right through it to the chicken bumping off the tool shed wall. 

So he has a ghost goat, a strange little chicken and a sickly cow. 

That doesn't mean anything about the farm, does it?

George goes down to the county extension office, and gets a soil sampler. They will test the soil for contaminants if he brings them core samples. 

He tries to take pictures of the ghost goat, but to no avail.

The chicken continues to shamble about. 

The cow starts to get sickly again.

\- - -

The cow is a werewolf.

George sees it change one warm summer night, when the sun has just barely set and the moon starts to rise. 

The cow shudders and twitches, its legs growing shorter, its body slimmer. It changes silently, with nary a grunt of distress, but he can see the wolf it becomes panting heavily in the tall grass. The wolf turns to run into the forest.

Sitting up in a tree stand, having hoped to catch a glimpse of his howling visitor, George shivers.

\- - -

“Heard your cow howling the other night,” the neighbor says over the phone. “Lock that thing up next month, will you?”

“It, er, wasn't my cow?” George is a terrible liar.

“Sure as hell was your cow,” the neighbor says. “This is the East Coast, we don't have wolves here.”

“What did you mean, when you said this farm wasn't right?”

“Cursed,” says the neighbor. “Don't know why, but cursed. Last guy had zombie chickens and werewolf cows, too. And that damn ghost goat.”

“Do you think I should move?” The soil samples have come back negative. He'd gotten the land at a great price.

“No,” the neighbor says. “Just lock up the damn cow.”

\- - -

George buys mealworms for the zombie chicken now. It tries to peck him as often as the mealworms, but it shambles a little faster these days, and bumps into fewer walls. It's good for entertainment, if nothing else.

The ghost goat still appears, romping on top of the chicken coop and in the hay barn. He's not sure what to do for it, but it seems content, so he leaves it alone. 

Every full moon, he locks up the cow. 

-end-


End file.
